


Still Don't Know My Name

by loveisblind



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben just wants a hug, Body Confidence, F/M, Insecurity, M/M, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveisblind/pseuds/loveisblind
Summary: Ben loves Rey. Rey loves her boyfriend. Who isn't Ben.And Ben most definitely does not love himself.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/OMC
Comments: 83
Kudos: 203





	1. I know I should just say goodnight, but it's harder to see you're not mine

Rey’s door was shut. Not just shut—locked.

Ben stared at the dark wood for a long moment, silent. If he held his breath, he could hear Rey’s muffled giggling. Then, a harmless slap, and a reprimand in a much deeper voice.

Oliver.

Ben closed his eyes. His head knocked back against his own door. Fucking Oliver.

It was only when the plate in his hand began to tilt toward the floor that he remembered he actually wasn’t leaving his room for the first time all day to perve on his flatmate. He forced himself to make his way down the hallway and push into the living room-come-kitchen, leaving behind Rey’s delighted laughter.

Unsurprisingly, the living room was already occupied. Ben vaguely remembered leaving a sleeping Finn on the sofa the night before; a Finn still remained on the sofa, but he definitely wasn’t sleeping. 

‘ _Jesus—’_

‘Sorry! Oh God, sorry, Ben—’

Poe quickly gathered his shirt to his chest, nearly falling backwards off of an equally naked Finn. Finn just laughed, rubbing at an exposed pec of enviably smooth skin. ‘What happened to the forty-eight hour study lockdown?’

Ben dumped his plate in the sink and stared as it settled on the bottom of the basin. It seemed to span the safe amount of time for the pair to zip their jeans back up. ‘I know the module too well,’ he told the bubbles.

Finn snorted. ‘Can’t relate.’

When Ben finally turned round, Poe was yanking his white linen shirt back over his stomach. He sent Ben a sheepish grin, cheeks hot beneath his olive skin. ‘Again—sorry, Ben—’

‘Don’t worry. It’s Finn’s balls I’ll kick.’

Poe grinned. ‘Not too hard. I kind of like them.’

Ben gagged, but stopped when Finn pulled Poe back down to lock him in a tender kiss. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t seem to look away. It wasn’t his fault they were the most attractive couple he knew. And fuck, did he know a lot.

His stomach did that funny flip-flop thing it liked to do, usually when he was reminded of his own loneliness. With a swipe of his thumb over his cheekbone, Finn finally let Poe go. ‘See you later,’ he murmured with a gentle smile. Poe blushed harder and waved a quick goodbye before dashing out the door.

Finn flopped back to lying on the sofa, hands cupped to his face. Even so, it was impossible to miss the smile lighting up his face.

‘So it’s going well then?’

‘Fuck,’ Finn breathed. ‘Better than well. I want to be around him all the time, y’know? He just makes me so— _happy._ And the sex, Jesus Christ, the _sex_ —’

‘I feel like I already know how good the sex is,’ Ben reminded him. ‘We share a wall.’

‘Fuck yeah we share a wall.’

Rey breezed into the room, hand swaying behind her where it clung to Oliver’s. She beamed at the sight of her roommates as they chorused _Happy Birthday!_ ‘Awh, thanks guys! Was that Poe leaving?’

‘Sure was.’ Finn sat up and yanked his shirt on. ‘And I suppose that means I should get studying.’

‘You do know the exam’s tomorrow, right?’

Finn shrugged, that same stupid smile stuck on his face. ‘Yeah, so? I’ve got loads of time.’

‘Awh,’ Rey sang. ‘He’s in _love_.’

Finn ruffled her hair as he walked past. ‘Says you. Alright, Oliver?’

Ben finally forced himself to look at Rey’s boyfriend. Big, stocky Oliver, with his golden hair and peachy skin and firm biceps. The guy looked like he’d never had a single pimple in his whole entire life. Ben tried his hardest not to resent him for that; his own skin was pock-marked and dimpled, despite the two of them being only a month apart in age. Almost unthinkingly, Ben reached up to touch at his scar, before quickly dropping his hand back to his side.

How cruel to think that even if Oliver did have Ben’s scar, he’d probably make it look cool. Heroic. But no—it was Ben who had it. Ben’s skin it twisted and gashed, running through his eye, down his cheek, sloping his neck to finally taper away just beyond his collarbone. It made him look monstrous—well, even more monstrous. Plenty of people looked away from his face when they spoke to him, too afraid to be caught staring at the unsightly tear. His own mother searched high and low for a plastic surgeon who’d make it just a little bit less ugly. She’d been unsuccessful.

Ugly. The word curdled, tight, in his stomach.

‘Oh, shit, my bag. Can I quickly grab it before we go? I’ll be two minutes.’

‘Yeah, yeah, ‘course.’ Oliver’s words were accompanied by a quick kiss to Rey’s cheek. Rey grinned and dashed out of the room, door thudding shut behind her.

The panic rose in Ben’s chest.

Oliver turned to face him, expression already smug. Ben’s grip tightened. This was the part of Oliver he hated the most.

‘Funny,’ he began. ‘I came in here last night to grab a spare condom off the guys and—’ He chuckled. ‘I heard the _funniest_ thing.’

Ben said nothing.

‘I heard Finn telling Poe a little story,’ Oliver continued, eyes glinting. ‘About you, of all people.’

Ben’s stomach dropped. Surely—

‘That you’ve never even stuck your dick in a girl. Or, sorry, even _kissed_ a girl.’ Oliver could barely contain his glee. He laughed, the noise too loud and too joyful. ‘I thought I’d heard him wrong, but then I thought about it and it totally made sense. Big bad Ben Solo, a _virgin_?’ He sniggered. ‘Too good to be true.’

‘Believe what you want,’ Ben said, forcing his voice to stay steady. He made to push past Oliver, but was shoved back against the cabinets. Ben still had a good foot on him, but Oliver was a gym _addict._ He practically radiated strength.

‘See, I don’t really like the way you look at Rey, buddy-boy,’ Oliver whispered, mouth only inches from Ben’s chin. ‘All sad and mournful, like a fucking kicked puppy. It makes me sick. So here’s the deal. You leave her alone, yeah? You leave her alone, and say absolutely fucking nothing about this, and I won’t tell her you’re a twenty-four year old virgin with a raging fucking boner for her, okay?’ He patted Ben’s chest. ‘Good boy. You got those tickets?’

Ben knew he was flushed from neck to the very tips of his ears. ‘Tickets?’

‘For Rey’s birthday.’

Ben’s heart plummeted. Fuck. He’d saved up for months to buy Rey tickets to tour NASA; she’d always been just a little shy of the price, and always tried not to look too sad whenever something came up that she had to pay for instead. Ben had been waiting weeks to see her face when she opened the card—and he still would. Except he wouldn’t be going with her.

‘What—’

‘Give me the tickets, or I’ll break your nose.’ Oliver reared his head back as if to get a better look at him and winced. ‘Not that it really needs it. Things busted enough already as it is.’

There was no version of the scenario where Ben came out on top. Saving meant saving when it came to those tickets; when he’d been made redundant at the record shop two months ago and couldn’t find another job, he’d had to decide between food or the tickets and rent. And the thought of Rey politely saying, ‘Oh, don’t worry about it,’ when he had to tell her he hadn’t gotten her anything for her birthday hurt his heart. The imagined pain outweighed the groaning hunger pains in his stomach. So he’d had to pull in three holes on his belt. Big deal.

But…at least she’d still be going, right? And with someone she loved. Just…not him. Ben hesitated for the smallest of moments, before reaching behind him to slide the envelope off the top of the fridge. Oliver snatched it out his hand, peering in and whistling, ‘VIP, huh? She’ll love it.’ Slapping his bicep, he finally stepped away, and Ben could finally breathe again.

Just then, Rey burst in, waving her bag triumphantly. ‘Got it! Fell down the back of my bed, again. Ready?’

‘Yup, just saying bye to Big Ben over there.’ Oliver joined her, offering his arm. ‘Ready for the best birthday ever, baby?’

Ben barely heard Rey’s call of goodbye before the door slammed shut. He stared at the dirty floor tiles, his socked feet still on them, before lifting a hand to press at his eyes. Tears stung for a moment before he blinked them away. Don’t be a fucking baby, Solo.

*

Virginity, Ben found, was a funny thing. As was dating, as was making out, as were one night stands. They all seemed to happen or break down or disappear _around_ him. Rey lost her virginity when she was seventeen, and happily started dating the guy after that. Finn fucked a guy on a night out when he was eighteen, and proceeded to become one of the easiest lays on campus before settling down with Poe, who was the only other person Ben knew who’d also lost his V-card late. He’d still lost it though. One step further than Ben.

It wasn’t like he was waiting for someone special. Maybe he had been for the first while; his eighteenth birthday came and passed, as did his nineteenth and twentieth. Nights out became babysitting stints, where he herded the one’s without potential shags back to the apartment and made sure the others were sober enough to know they wanted to get laid. The girls he looked at became less and less specific; soon, he was wondering if the fifty-year-old librarian at the college campus would mind stripping him of his sexless plight.

Except it finally came to him. He finally realised why he’d still never as much as kissed someone by his twenty-fourth year and the truth had him lying in his bed for eight hours straight.

It was him. He was the problem.

Everyone else managed it so easily. Clock someone you fancy, wander over to speak to them, flirt a bit and boom, in bed together within the hour. It was some elaborate dance Ben had never been taught the steps to. And the more he tried to ignore it, the more it weighed on his mind.

He wasn’t stupid. He was well aware he wasn’t beautiful like Poe, or magazine-attractive like Oliver or stupidly hot like Finn. It was hardly a secret. Ben tried to avoid mirrors like the plague. Even as a kid, he’d duck away as he brushed his teeth at night to he wouldn’t have to stare at his sticky-out ears, or his too big-mouth or prominent nose. He was a puzzle assembled all wrong, and everyone else expected him to just get on with it.

He’d asked Leia once why he looked how he did. She’d paused her stirring of her soup to peer up at him, despite the fact he was only twelve years old at the time. ‘What do you mean, ‘look how do you’?’

Ben had swallowed, throat tight. ‘Well, y’know…ugly.’

The horror on Leia’s face was enough to never ask the question again. It physically hurt her for him to address it, and he knew it. At the tension in the kitchen, Han had come in and tried to ask what was wrong, only for Ben to say his mother wasn’t taking a joke very well. Han had rolled his eyes and slung an arm around his wife’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Ben looked away then, too.

What a shame for his parents—his parents, who were still remarkably attractive in their older age—to have a son like him. Leia constantly asked after any potential girlfriends when he made his weekly phone call. He tried to let her down easy, just saying he didn’t have the time to date right now.

Except he did. He had plenty of time to go to bars and clubs and pick up a girl. But his friends always told him that he’d know. He’d get a feeling when he looked at someone—which he did—and they’d get the feeling too—which they didn’t. Girls looked away quickly, or simply didn’t even register that someone like him could think he’d have a shot with someone like them. He’d thought to ask his friends for advice what to do when nobody found you attractive, but quickly realised they wouldn’t have an answer for that.


	2. I wish you knew how I loved you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a massive, massive thank you to the amount of positive comments I got on the first chapter??? i wasn't too sure how i felt about this fic, but the support i got really boosted my confidence. so, i hope you enjoy this new chapter!

The student bar was painfully busy. Ben raised his arm for the third time to avoid spilling his pint over some poor guy’s head. He really didn’t see why the others liked the place so much; overpriced drinks, constantly filled seats and truly horrendous live bands didn’t make for the best night out in his opinion.

But Rey loved it, and that was all that mattered. She flourished under the warm fairy lights, eyes bright. The two of them huddled against the bar, Rey nuzzling into Ben’s side. His heart pounded against his ribs—he just hoped to God she couldn’t feel it.

‘They’re so _late_ ,’ she whined, sipping at her cocktail. ‘I told them to be here for seven.’

‘Two guesses why Finn and Poe are late.’

Rey grinned. Her smile came even easier with the alcohol. ‘I want to be mad but I love them too much. They’re so _cute.’_ Abandoning another empty glass, she wound her arms round his waist and rested her chin on his chest, blinking up at him. ‘We need to get you paired off, Benny. You’re the last one.’

He wasn’t drunk enough to justify it, but he definitely wasn’t sober enough to resist the urge to wrap his arm round her shoulders and squeeze her in tighter. ‘I don’t mind being alone,’ he shrugged. ‘Someone’s got to be. There’s way too much love going on at home right now.’

Rey pouted. She looked decidedly unsatisfied with his answer, but was distracted by a booming cry of, ‘My loves! We have arrived!’

‘Took your time,’ Ben replied, but Finn swung his arms around them before he could complain too much.

‘Delayed gratification, my boy, delayed gratification.’ Finn grabbed Ben’s pint and chugged it. Poe poked his head round his boyfriend and pressed a kiss to Rey’s cheek. Ben tried to pretend he didn’t miss her weight as she pulled away to hug Poe. Ben looked between the boyfriends; Finn’s lips were swollen, and Poe’s out-of-character polo neck did nothing to mask the purpling bruises on his throat. As if he felt the weight of Ben’s gaze, he nervously pressed the material closer to his skin.

‘So,’ Poe said. ‘Where’s Oliver?’

A vague taste of bile rose in Ben’s throat. He hadn’t seen Rey’s boyfriend in the three days since her birthday, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Rey practically lit up. ‘He couldn’t make it, but you’ll never _guess_ what he got me for my birthday. Tickets…for _NASA._ ’

Poe made the appropriate noises while Finn squinted at Ben. ‘Wait, what? So he got you the same as B—’

‘There’s a free table over there,’ Ben cut in. Rey shot over instantly, spreading out across the booth to ward off any approaching students. Ben went to shift around Finn, but the other pressed a hand to his chest.

‘Come on—’

‘No, what does she mean? NASA tickets?’ Finn frowned. ‘You saved up like hell for them, man. What, did you give Oliver the idea or something?’

Ben’s ears pricked. ‘Yeah, actually, I returned the ones I bought. I thought she’d like it better if he gave them to her.’

It was impossible to tell if Finn was convinced. He stared at Ben, gaze level, before slowly pulling away his hand. There was still something close to doubt flickering in his eyes, but Ben hurried toward the booth before he could say anything else.

If there was one thing Ben Solo could do, it was drink. Poe, son of wealthy but absent parents, waved his card without a thought, glancing it over a PIN machine screen so many times Ben lost count. But pints kept appearing in front of him, so he sure as hell kept drinking them. Except…he’d forgotten what drinking on an empty stomach was like. When _was_ the last time he ate? He stared down at his frothy glass, eyes squinting with the effort of trying to think through his brain fog. Yesterday morning, maybe? The night before? There was only so much food he could steal from the others without guilt riddling him through like cheese. An apple here, a handful of nuts there. Nothing that would go amiss.

The others got louder around him, and Ben pressed a hand to his brow. Right in his ear, Finn yelled something about ‘overly watery cum’ and Ben’s stomach flipped. He forced himself to swallow the rising vomit in his throat because he knew, if he threw up right here and now, there wouldn’t be a whole lot to chuck up.

‘Ben?’

A touch to his free hand. Woozy, he glanced up. Looking distractingly sober, Rey’s brows pushed together as she asked, ‘You okay?’

It was as if everything else just…quietened. The lights behind her blurred, and she was cast into a warm glow of gold. Ben blinked, slow, and a finger twitched up to touch hers. _Traitor._

‘Let’s get some air, yeah? You two—hold onto this table with your goddamn lives.’ Rey gathered up her jacket and slung it over her shoulders, gently manoeuvring Ben out of the booth. Finn booed, shouting, ‘Lightweight!’ as Rey guided Ben out the back door.

The air was cooler, much cooler, out in the night. Ben sucked in a lungful, eyes closing as the nausea began to pass. The bar garden wasn’t much beyond a few picnic tables and a gathering of fake grass, but he’d never been more grateful to sit down heavily on a mouldy bench in his entire life. Rey perched beside him, softly stroking a strand of hair out of his eyes. His stomach twisted again, but there was no danger of puking this time. It was pure warmth.

Voice barely above a murmur, Rey breathed, ‘Better?’

He nodded, humming lightly.

She wound her arm through his, and rested her temple against his shoulder. Through tired eyes, Ben found himself staring at how tiny her hand looked resting against his bicep. He snorted internally. Bicep? There hadn’t been much before, but after his shitty eating habits, his muscles had wasted even more.

‘You seem sad, Ben.’

They weren’t looking at each other. The air felt heavy with…something, but Ben was either too slow or too drunk to figure it out. Instead, he murmured, ‘I’m not.’

Rey rubbed the side of her thumb against his exposed skin. ‘I don’t know if you know you are yet. But if you’re feeling low, or you need someone to talk to—’

He finally faced her. ‘Rey. I’m fine. Really.’

Her eyes searched his for a long moment, mouth tight. Even worried, she was still stunning. How unfair. Her gaze was too probing, stripping him bare, and he looked back down at the artificial grass before he said something stupid. _I am sad. I love you. I don’t know how not to hate myself._

‘So, NASA, huh?’

Rey’s mouth twisted. Clearly, she wasn’t finished talking about him. But she played along. ‘I can’t believe it. I think I mentioned that tour to him once, maybe twice. And he _remembered._ ’ She shook her head. ‘I swear, he tries harder than all my other boyfriends combined.’

The tears welled quick in Ben’s eyes. A stray one fell, and he hid a wipe behind an itch of his nose. ‘Yeah. Pretty amazing.’

A comfortable silence fell between them. Her grip slackened on his arm as the two of them glanced up. Rey inhaled, the breath quick. ‘Look at the stars!’ Above them, the sky arced in a sea of stars, quiet and unsuspecting. ‘That’s the Milky Way…oh, oh, and that’s the North Star! See, Ben! Right there!’

But he was too busy looking at her. Wisps of dark hair waved around her face as she stared heavenward, mouth tilting up in awe. Night air coaxed a blossom of pink across her cheeks, and Ben thought, if he looked close enough, that he could see the tiny stars glittering in her shining eyes.

*

_Birthday dinner at ours? You can invite your friends! Especially that Finn boy. He really gets on your dad’s nerves – Mum x._

Ben lay on his back as he read and reread the message. His sheets were tangled round his waist, and a finger absently traced the dip of his throat, following the scar. Closing his eyes, he tossed his phone to the side and groaned quietly. Dinner at his parents didn’t sound too bad, but it was the _inviting the others_ that got to him. Because Oliver had oh-so-kindly revealed to Ben the night before that he’d gotten some last minute seats at a baseball game that Rey and Finn were dying to see. So, obviously, Poe was going by extension. Oliver made sure to tell Ben the news as the others wandered to the back door for a smoke.

‘You don’t mind, right? I could only get four tickets,’ he said easily, cracking open another beer. ‘You’re not into sports anyway, are you?’

The words were innocent enough, but Ben knew what to look for. The slight glint in Oliver’s eyes, the glimpse of his pointed canines as he smirked. He’d probably booked those seats months ago. But Ben dutifully nodded, purposefully looking back to the TV. ‘No worries.’

Which is what led him to still be lying in his bed at four in the afternoon, skin tacky with sleep-sweat and the distinct odour of unwashed clothes lingering in the air. He hardly had anyone to impress. He rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes.

Really, it was fine. He couldn’t grudge them this, surely? A baseball game— _the_ baseball game, Finn made sure to tell him—a few towns over which meant they’d be out all day was hardly a crime. So what if Oliver didn’t get him a ticket? It would’ve been wasted anyway. He was right—Ben hated sports.

He swallowed. _Don’t be a pussy. For once in your life._

Reaching for his phone, he finally replied to his mother. _We’re going out tonight, but I’ll catch you over the weekend. Thanks for the offer – B._ He couldn’t have Leia, as well as everyone else, thinking he was a total loser. God knows his father would rip the shit out of him if he found out how he was _really_ spending his birthday.

Ben rubbed a hand over his face, palm automatically arching away from the puckered skin of his cheek. His chest tightened, and he curled in on himself, nursing the heartache. Of anyone, he really thought Rey might remember. That was half the reason they’d became friends in the first place; an ice-breaker in after-school club, where kids with similar or identical birthdays became buddies for the day. Quiet, reserved Ben stayed as far back as he could, thumbs worrying at one another. Rey had bounded over to him, towering over him as he sat cross-legged on the floor. ‘Your birthday’s a week after mine. You’re my buddy.’ She stuck out a hand. ‘I’m Rey.’

His phone pinged with two notifications. A message from his mother— _Have a good time, Benny. You know I love you to the moon and back_ —and an Instagram notification from Poe. His thumb hovered over it for a beat, before he swept it to the right. A photo popped up immediately; the four of them, backs to the field, picture being taken by a stranger. Finn was lifting Poe, who was grinning wide at the camera. Rey had her arms wound round Oliver’s neck, the too-big cap on her head obviously his. The caption read, _Best day with the best people. Even if I don’t understand baseball!_

He was so fucking _sick_ of being a baby about it. So what, they spent time somewhere else on his birthday? Who cares! It wasn’t even a special one. 

But something deep, deep down refused to stop hurting. Just an acknowledgement would’ve been fine. A stray happy birthday! Or card slid under his door. Nothing huge. Just enough to let him know he wasn’t alone.

Before he could start crying—fucking _again_ —he pressed his face to his pillow, pushed his earbuds further in, and yanked his duvet up over his head. The darkness was consuming and inviting, and utterly isolating.

He woke to the sound of the doorbell. Sitting up, he rubbed dazedly at his eyes. Sunlight feebly pushed through his drawn-curtains, but too low to be morning. He frowned, still confused by how deeply he’d been asleep—had he slept until the next _day_?

Rey’s kind greeting was followed by a quieter, equally pleasant response. Ben yawned into his fist. The voice was familiar…

Shit.

He shot out of bed, forgetting a shirt as he tore through the hallway to the front door. Leia stood in the foyer, wrapped up warm in dark clothing, a white box cradled in her hands. Rey, dressed in little more than sleep shorts and a tank top, leaned easily against the wall as she chatted with his mother.

‘Mum, Mum—what, uh, what are you doing here?’

Leia tutted. ‘Oh, charming. I just thought I’d bring you this since you were busy yesterday—which reminds me, did you have a good time?’

Confused, Rey smiled politely. ‘Oh, you mean—we did, it was amazing! But Ben didn’t—’

‘Thanks, you really didn’t have to,’ Ben interrupted, practically snatching the box from his mother’s hands. ‘Don’t you and dad usually go shopping on Saturdays? Like, all day?’

‘Right, right, I’m going! You really couldn’t be any more obvious, Benjamin, you really couldn’t.’ Leia pressed a kiss to Rey’s cheek and stood on her tiptoes to press another to Ben’s. Despite himself, he flushed. ‘I’ll catch you later, kiddies!’

Rey closed the door and pinned Ben with a strange look. ‘I’ve never seen you be so rude to your mum before. Actually, I’ve never seen your mum _accept_ you being so rude to her before.’ She cocked her head at the box. ‘What’s in there?’

‘Oh, uh, nothing! Well, just some old stuff from my bedroom I need this week.’ He was _so_ bad at lying. He could practically feel the heat rising to the tips of his ears. Thank God he kept his hair long enough now that nobody could tell anymore.

Doubtful, Rey huffed a wary laugh. ‘Right, well, you’re acting weird. What was so urgent your mum needed to drop it off first thing? And what did she mean, did you have a good time—’ Rey cut off, her eyes dropping. Ben barely had time to panic before Rey blushed a pretty pink and averted her eyes. ‘Oh, uh…I think your, uh…you might have…’

Ben looked down. Usually, a t-shirt kept his crotch hidden from views at all times. Except for right now. Where he stood in front of Rey. Shirtless. With his morning hard-on pressing unmistakably against the soft grey material of his sweats, so firm you could practically trace the outline of the head.

His blush burned down to his chest.

He fled before he could say anything, leaving Rey speechless at the end of the hallway. He yanked on a shirt before he could puke and forced the boner to go the _fuck_ away.

They never spoke of it for the rest of the day, though for a solid minute Ben panicked that she’d told Oliver, who was sniggering over his cereal about something. But she wouldn’t…would she?

They went back to normal. And at night, when Rey lost the bet amongst the three flatmates, plus two guests, over whose turn it was to take out the rubbish, she was oddly quiet upon her return. Ben tried not to think anything of it, choosing instead to turn and accept Poe’s offer of a game of poker.

No one could tell that as Rey perched, silent, beside Oliver, that she was thinking of what she saw in the bins. A white box resting on a pile of mouldy bags, half burst open from the impact of being tossed in. And when she squinted in the low light, she could just about make out the cake inside, with _Happy Birthday, Benny_ written on top in blue icing. The letters were smeared and sliding off, and Rey’s eyes stung with the rotten smell of guilt.


	3. A Dream of an Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me again! the response has just been insane to this fic, and i've been getting such amazing feedback that it's honestly kind of overwhelming in the best way.  
> i know this chapter is tiny, but the comments have just been so motivating that i thought i'd just post it! hope you enjoy x

_The air was humid, clinging to his bare skin. His chest heaved, and his thighs burned with an ache vaguely reminiscent of squats, but more…pleasant? Something shifted next to him. Legs entwined with his, and a hand gently stroked at his cheek._

_‘Fuck, Ben…’ The words were breathy. ‘I didn’t expect…Jesus…’_

_Ben pulled the body in closer, revelling in the stickiness of their touching skin. This particular laxness of his muscles was unfamiliar, but fuck, did he love it. Only then, through hooded lids, could he take in his surroundings. The room was soft and white, cast in golden light from bedside lamps. Gauzy curtains hid open patio doors; a salty breeze graced their hot skin. Craning his neck, Ben peered blearily through the doors—just beyond lay a dark night sky, undercut by black waves and shadowy sands._

_‘I’ve always wanted to have my honeymoon on a beach,’ Rey whispered. ‘Something about the waves…’ She sat up lazily, leaning over him. Ben’s breath caught—her hair was loose and soft round her shoulders, long enough that the tips tickled his chest. With an oddly shy smile, she ducked to press a kiss to his mouth, moaning quietly. He sighed into it, hand coming up to slide through her hair. ‘Rey,’ he breathed, for no reason other than realising he was_ kissing _her._ Rey. _The girl he’d loved for as long as he could remember. Now they were on their…honeymoon, did she say? There was a new weight on his hand, hugging at the base of his finger—a gold ring._

_Desperation struck him. He pulled her tighter, aches forgotten. It was as if he couldn’t kiss her hard enough, couldn’t feel her close enough. His fingers dug into her soft hips—any sudden panic over bruising vanished when she moaned loud enough for his cock to twitch._

_‘Oh,_ fuck, _Ben—’_

_It was all he’d ever wanted, right there, burning as their bodies pressed together—_

‘Ben?’

He shuddered awake.

His bedroom was dark and familiar, easier to cling to than the drifting fantasy of the twilight beach-house. Unsurprisingly, his skin was damp. With a quiet groan, he pushed a hand into his boxers; his dick lay heavy on his thigh, still hard, though his skin was covered in cooling cum.

Fuck.

Then—a touch to his shoulder. He jerked, head snapping round.

Rey perched on the side of his bed, one knee crooked, chin resting atop it. She was still wearing those tiny fucking shorts, and Ben thanked every God there was that it was so dark in his room. His cheeks might be scorching and his dick might be wet but at least Rey didn’t know it.

But his hazy panic subsided at the sound of a quiet sniff.

‘Hey, hey, come here—’ Voice thick with sleep, he sat up to reach for her.

Rey immediately scooted closer, arms reaching to wind round his broad shoulders. Her sobs got increasingly louder as she pressed her damp face into the crook of his neck. Keeping his lap firmly covered, thank you very much, he gently rubbed at her back.

‘It’s okay,’ he soothed. ‘Hey, come on, don’t cry. What’s wrong?’

She shook her head, still hiding in his neck. He hugged her closer, chin nestled over her shoulder. There was nothing he could say that would make her stop crying—years of friendship had taught him that much. Hell, her first breakup taught him that. Days he’d spent, locked away in her room, making sure she ate and slept and didn’t wipe her face raw with cheap tissues.

When Rey finally stilled, Ben rubbed a soothing hand over her spine. ‘What’s wrong?’

There was a beat, a moment long enough for him to absently note how _right_ it felt having her in his arms. Then: ‘I saw it.’

‘What?’

‘Your cake,’ she sniffed. ‘In the trash. Ben, I can’t—there’s no way I can tell you how _sorry_ I am—’

He frowned, muscles relaxing. ‘What? Is that what this is about? Rey, c’mon. It was just a dumb birthday.’ He suddenly felt ridiculous. He gently swept a thumb under each of her eyes, skin coming away damp. ‘Seriously, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t going to do anything anyway. Who cares, right? He tried a laugh, but it fell irritatingly flat. _Fuck sake—don’t make her feel even_ more _sorry for you._

She leaned back and, even in the dark, Ben could see how incredulous her expression was. ‘ _I_ care. Fucking hell, _I_ care that I missed your birthday. I’m so fucking selfish! Banging on about going to that stupid ass baseball game and—’ Rey fell silent. Her voice was tiny when she asked, ‘Why didn’t you say something, Ben?’

_Why didn’t you say something, Ben. Why didn’t you tell me you’d lost your job, Ben. Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been living on hard Cornflakes and stolen food for months, Ben. Why didn’t you tell me you hate yourself, Ben. Why didn’t you tell me you’re broken, Ben._

He sucked at his lip, a shoulder rising only to fall. ‘It didn’t…it doesn’t matter? You were busy, and I know how much you wanted to go. I didn’t want to make you feel bad.’

A stunned noise burst out of her. ‘ _What_? You’d _never_ forget my birthday, _never._ I’d kick your ass if you did. Why are you acting like its fine?’

Because it is, he wanted to say. Fine that he’d lost two stone. Fine that his savings were plummeting quicker than he could find wages from odd jobs to fill them back up again. Fine that the girl he was in love with was with someone else—it was _okay._ Even if Rey wasn’t with Oliver—would Ben have asked her out? Would he have asked her to not only be okay with, but _tolerate_ him? It went so much deeper than skin; maybe, if he had more confidence in who he was as a person, he wouldn’t hate his scar so much. His ears would be a quirky character feature and he’d set his shoulders back to show off his muscular arms, rather than hunching in on them to hide his inadequacy. Maybe if he was someone else, he could stand to have mirrors in his bedroom. Maybe—if he was someone else. But he wasn’t. He was just him.

Before he could think, Ben pressed a soft kiss to Rey’s forehead. She let out a breath neither realised she’d been holding. Fingers grazed his collar bones.

‘Forget about it,’ he whispered, kindly. ‘Really. I have.’

Behind him, the moon shifted, and its soft white light glanced off Rey’s face. Her eyes were still watery, lips bitten and pink. They stared at each other in the half-darkness, faces inches from one another. Ben’s breath was tight in his lungs. Rey’s brow twitched, confused. Her hand came up to rest against his cheek, thumb glancing lightly over his sleep-plush lips.

The silence was so loud. She looked at him like it was the first time. Her eyes flickered to his scar; he glanced away. The urge to pull back, to disappear back into the shadows untouched by the moonlight ached in him. But Rey held him steady. Her gaze didn’t move from his scar. Rather, her finger traced it, touch soft but incautious. Her lips twitched, forming a silent, _Pretty._

So small before him, yet she took up so much more room. Ben let out a shaky breath, and Rey’s eyes dropped once again to his lips.

Silently, she leaned in and pressed a gentle, wary kiss to his lips. It was the softest of pressures, inviting and slow. He pressed back, cautious and inexperienced, but the exchange didn’t seem to call for expertise. It ached for gentle touches, for breath caught between soft lips. They moved together, his head tilting one way as her head tilted the other. Too sudden a movement promised to shatter the tender moment; the room was silent but for the soft wetness of the kiss, and the shaky skim of her small hand against his neck.

When they pulled apart, it was as if Rey had taken part of him with her. His skin buzzed as he let out a shaky breath. Rey’s fingers pressed against his skin for a moment before they were gone. In the sweet darkness, she whispered, ‘Happy birthday, Ben.’

In the next moment, she was gone. 


	4. if i could be anyone else, i would

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, me again! so sorry for the lack of updates--i'm back at uni and it's been crazy! another short chapter, i know, but i should have the next chapter up in the next couple of days.  
> (again, incredibly grateful for the amazing comments--it's so inspiring, you have no idea)

‘Solo? Benjamin Solo?’

Ben stood, too quickly. ‘Oh, uh, just Ben’s fine.’

The woman smiled, offering a hand. ‘Well, then, Gwen’s fine for me—nice to meet you.’

Dear _God_ , he hoped his hands weren’t too sweaty.

But of course they were—his entire body had been covered in a fine sheen since the second he stepped out the apartment. The forty-five minute walk hadn’t helped much either. His hamstrings didn’t thank him much for that one, but the bus cost a lot more than he had in his bank account. Walking it was, then.

As he followed Gwen through the winding corridors, he tried to swallow past the dryness in his throat. Fuck. Even his hair was sticking to his forehead. _Calm_ down, _Jesus—_

Gwen waved him into a room. ‘Okay, Ben, just pop yourself down and we can get through the boring bits.’ As she closed the door behind them, the cut-off from the rest of the ward sent a wave of relief through him. The walls were a beachy sea-blue, undercut by the white desk and old-model computer balanced precariously upon it. Blinds, half-tilted, coaxed in stray waves of light. The lack of direct sunlight made his chest relax the tiniest bit.

Sitting, Ben noticed the spotless gold plaque card perched pride of place at the front of the desk. DR GWENDOLINE PHASMA. She scooted her own chair closer to the desk and smiled, sheepish. ‘It’s a bit nerdy, I know. It took me longer than most to get my degree, so I’m a bit anal about keeping it shiny. Anyways, enough about me.’ She leaned in. ‘I understand you’re interested in becoming a donor today.’

His cheeks burned. ‘Uh, yeah, I am.’

‘Fantastic. Now, we don’t have records of you, so I’m assuming you haven’t donated with us before, am I right?’

Fuck, fuck, fuck. _What am I_ doing _here?_ ‘No, this is my…my first time.’

Gwen’s keyboard clicking paused. Her eyes lifted to his, and already, he could see the scepticism. ‘And are you one hundred percent sure that you’re interested in participating? There’s no pressure, none at all, and you can back out at any moment. Even after submitting your sample, you have until the same time tomorrow to retract your specimen.’

Specimen. The word rang, cold and clinical, in his ears. ‘I’m positive. I’m just—I walked here, so I’m a bit…y’know…’ He laughed, the sound painfully nervous. Gwen’s smile was sympathetic, and she slid across a jug of water he’d barely even registered was there.

‘Take a cup of that. Don’t worry about a thing, Ben. Have you got your consultation notes?’

He fumbled in his hoodie pocket before handing over the poly-pocket. The consultation he’d had the week before had gone as well as he’d hoped—he had to sit and endure several questions about _what is your likelihood of having chlamydia?_ And _how often do you masturbate on a weekly basis?_ The answers were easy; _none_ and _a couple times,_ since _so much my arm begins to hurt_ seemed a little much to tell your everyday GP. But what really made his toes curl was the fact the doctor forgot to even ask if he was sexually active in the first place; he’d just _assumed._ Which, frankly, should’ve been a compliment, but deep down, Ben couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his mind. The doctor, an older guy with a face eerily similar to Ben’s own father, peered over his glasses as his hand paused over the form. ‘And could you tell me how many sexual partners you’d say you’ve had in the past five years?’

The words had stuck in his throat. He pressed his thumbnail into his forefinger, hard enough to hurt, before blurting out, ‘None.’

The doctor seemed taken aback. He straightened in his chair, laughing a little. ‘Ah. My apologies, sonny, I’m a little behind on matters of sexual health these days. It’s wonderful people are choosing to wait nowadays.’

He’d had to duck into the toilet on his way out so not to spatter the waiting room carpet in vomit.

As he’d bent over the bowl, stupidly big shoulders pressing against his equally stupid ears, he’d closed his eyes against the retch-induced tears. Maybe that’s what he should just start telling people. _I’m waiting for marriage. I’m waiting for the right one._ He’d wiped a hand against his chin. _No one’s fucking asking, you tosspot._

The whole morning left him shaky and bitter that he’d lost the handful of Coco Pops he’d snaffled from Finn. He’d walked home much slower than he’d walked there, legs like wet noodles. The only person who’d been in to see him like that was Rey— _Rey—_ and he’d barely met her eyes through the crack in the living room door before pushing through into his bedroom and sleeping until early the next morning.

Ben’s jaw tensed. They hadn’t spoken about the kiss. He wasn’t even entirely sure that it’d happened. If Rey had avoided him the next day, if she’d acted any way except how she usually did, he would’ve at least known it wasn’t a dream. Except…she didn’t. She acted completely normally, hugging him as she left for work and helping him cook dinner for a very hungover Finn. Nothing _changed._ The kiss in the half-light of his bedroom in the depths of a morning seemed further away than ever. Hell, he’d been having a sex dream right before it supposedly happened—how could he trust himself that the kiss wasn’t just an extension of that?

His chest ached. His hand reached up without permission to rub at the skin above it. It was obvious, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. The kiss never happened.

‘This all looks great,’ Gwen murmured, cutting through Ben’s wandering thoughts. She tapped a pen against her lips and peered at him. ‘Do you mind standing up for me?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Up, please.’

He stood, hands reaching for one another by his waist. His hoodie barely fitted him right anymore, but it was one of his father’s cast-offs, fitted with a thick lining of fur inside. It bulked him up just enough to keep the façade going.

Gwen hummed, teeth pressing to her bottom lip.

‘Is everything okay?’

The doctor’s eyes glazed as they took him in. There was something distant in her face. Her eyebrows twitched, and for a split second, he could’ve sworn she looked…distraught. But then she shook her head, and stood. ‘Absolutely fine. Would you like to follow me then, please?’

The second room was small, and not nearly as inviting as the doctor’s had been. Ben suddenly became incredibly aware of his own size; he could easily touch both walls if he lifted his arms. A single table and chair set completed the room, both facing a flat-screen fitted to the wall. 

The watery-blue cup waited for him on the table-top.

‘Take as long as you like and feel free to make use of all the material here. There should be some magazines in the table drawer should you want to use them.’ Gwen nodded, a firm move that seemed to settle her. ‘Just pop the cup back on the table when you’re all finished and we can begin sorting out the payment, alright?’

By the time she left him, Ben’s hands were trembling. He swallowed and wiped his palms on his jeans for what felt like the fortieth time that hour. Part of him wanted to roll his eyes; it was just _wanking,_ for fucks sake. He did it god knows how much already. What difference did it make doing it into a cup?

He picked the offending item up. It really was just a cup. He took a steadying breath, closing his eyes. What if it did make a difference? What if he just really didn’t want to have some kid out there? His own father had been missing for a huge chunk of his childhood—why the fuck did he think he wanted to be some faceless spunk donor?

The dread was settling quicker and quicker in his gut.

What if the kid looked like him? Shit, it probably would. God knows his genes were probably strong enough. His hand tightened around the cup. Did he really want to subject some poor kid to that? A lifetime of taunting over their crooked nose, or their pronounced ears, or their sinewy muscles?

Ben squeezed his eyes tighter. He mentally scrabbled for something, _anything_ that would make the air in his lungs stop shooting back out at any chance it got. There was a minute possibility that his parents’ good looks might’ve simply skipped a generation and any kid of his would be some golden-haired, peachy-cheeked scoundrel. The thought was comforting; his breathing slowed. _Yeah, that’s it._ His kids might have Leia’s beauty, or Han’s cheek, or Luke’s patience. They might have a desperate urge to explore, to meet new people, to live a life much wilder than his own.

He blinked, lashes trembling. In the silent TV, Ben saw himself reflected in the blackness.

That’d be nice. A little girl who braided her hair like her grandmother, or even the great-grandmother before that. A pair of twins, obsessed with pilots and planes and all things space. He pressed his lips together; the images were stupid, obviously. Kids by donor were mixed with some stranger's DNA. They wouldn’t wholly be him. He huffed a quiet laugh. Thank fuck for that.

But for a moment, he allowed himself a glimpse into that deeply hidden desire. Maybe he couldn’t have much say in a donor child, but his own…Already his mind flooded with images of a baby, skin pink with newness, cradled in blankets in his arms. He could almost feel the hot tears on his cheeks. A woman beyond the baby lying in a hospital bed, exhausted but with the delirious contentedness on her face that came only from motherhood. He imagined hot summers, lying on a picnic blanket as his daughter took her first steps toward him over the sun-warmed grass. A woman lying next to him, squealing with pleasure as they both goaded their toddler on.

Leia in her living room, delighted at her final acquisition of grandmother status, pressing kisses to the toddler’s soft cheeks. ‘The prettiest baby,’ she’d coo. ‘Grandma has the prettiest baby…’

Han letting the little girl ride atop his shoulders, both with their arms out as they ran across the garden. The pair would try to out-do each other with how much noise they could make. Leia would call a reminder that, ‘We have neighbours, you know!’ but the warning would be filled with too much love for it to really hold any weight. 

Ben let out a shaky breath. The fantasy died.

Who was he kidding. Any kid of his would be a monster.

_This_ was what he hated the most. How he wished, not for the first time, that his parents had had just one more kid. A sibling that was better than Ben in every way; he’d have his mother’s kindness and his father’s good looks. Someone who could’ve given Leia grandkids, and paid attention when Han tried to explain the logics of flying to him. Someone who wouldn’t have robbed them of their happiness in later life. A son without a scar severing his face and confidence issues riddling him through. A son with a girlfriend, who doted on him and taught Leia how to make apple pie and laughed at all Han’s jokes.

Ben had taken all of that away from them. They never said it, but he knew his parents knew he would never marry. He’d never even taken home a girlfriend to them before. In family pictures, he ducked out quickly before the flash could go off. Leia loved hanging Polaroid’s up all over the house—he didn’t want to embarrass her. She never asked him to be in them anyway.

How disappointing to have your only son end up like him.

Ben’s stomach cramped, and he quickly sat down. He forced himself to breathe slowly—the cramps were easier to deal with that way. The hunger pains passed faster if he stayed still.

Except, the longer he sat there, the worse the pains became. He inhaled shakily, and the cup dropped from his hand. The _crack_ it made on the floor echoed in his head. Groaning under his breath, he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, forcing the pain to just stop, just _fucking stop_ —

His shoulders slumped, the fight gone. Ben’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he slid to the floor, knees cracking against the tiles.


	5. I think I've broke my heart again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> again, so sorry for the delay!!

Rey had a Problem. A pretty big one, actually. Hefty in all the wrong places.

She scrubbed at the dishes she’d accidentally on purpose forgotten about to the point where they’d accumulated a starter layer of fuzzy green mould. With each scrape, she encouraged another wave of rotten stink and eventually just tossed the gloves into the bubbly sink.

‘Three people live here, you know!’ She yelled. Obviously, there was no answer. Finn would most likely have his headphones on and Ben—her stomach twisted. Well, Ben would probably be sleeping. And Ben was also a major part of her Problem.

They’d been friends for _years._ Practically their entire lives. They’d barely strayed from one another, even during the difficult teenage years, where Rey discovered how truly stroppy she was, and Ben struggled with the reappearance of his wanderer father. But despite all that, despite everything, he was still her very best friend.

But she just _couldn’t_ be happy with that. She just had to make it difficult and ugly and ten times harder than it needed to be. Rey could practically pinpoint the single moment she’d accidentally fucked it all up. Sixteen years old, skin bumpy with badly concealed acne, the pair of them had been sitting in detention, the fading light of late November falling behind them. Ben, already grown into his broad shoulders and large hands, was neatly attempting to tie Rey’s backpack back together. Some twat from the year above bounced her against her locker as he’d passed, pulling her back by the string of her bag. It slipped out of its buckle and thumped sadly to the floor. While Rey had been tempted to launch the thing off the guy’s head, Ben was the one to calmly pick it back up and promise her he’d be able to fix it.

‘That strap’s been snapped so many fucking times, Ben! Jesus, I can’t afford another one—’

‘Hey, hey—’ He squeezed her shoulder. She stared up at him, eyes watery despite her best efforts. ‘It’ll be fine. I’ll sort it.’ His smile was kind, but close-lipped. Even after getting his braces off, he was still a bit weird about showing his teeth—which was fine. But Rey wasn’t _used_ to them having secrets. Having things that they hid from one another. It was something she prided herself on; their friendship had lasted so long that she barely knew where he ended and she began. He was her soothing balm. Rey was endlessly grateful of the amount of things Ben had gotten her out of.

Detention, evidently, wasn’t one of them. She still threw her bag at the guy’s head, but she waited until lunch, where she could get a better aim.

Ben was there purely out of support. They sat, arm-to-arm, in the empty classroom. Rey scribbled absently in her maths jotter, not really paying much attention to the equations she was supposedly answering. Fuck maths anyway.

‘Are you asking Maggie to the prom?’

Ben paused. ‘What?’

Rey swivelled in her chair, leaning her head on her hand. ‘Maggie? Prom? I heard her friends in the bathroom saying she wants you to ask her.’

Her cheeks were delightfully red. He coughed, clearing his throat, before lifting a shoulder and going back to winding the strap through the metal buckle. ‘No. I don’t think so.’

Rey blinked. She’d been expecting a little more than that. Where was the stuttering? The shake of his hands? ‘Oh. Really? Why not?’

Ben swallowed, head down. Strands of hair fell forward, hiding his eyes. ‘She’s a really nice girl, but—’ He made a noise in his throat. ‘I don’t think she’s really wanting me to ask. It was probably…I dunno, a joke or something.’ Before Rey could say anything, Ben straightened and slid her fixed backpack over to her. His lips quirked as she swung her arms around him.

‘Thank you! Have I ever told you how much I love you?’ Rey pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

He laughed, the sound warm. ‘Never. You should really tell me more.’ His arm raised to gently squeeze her in return and she rested her cheek against his head. Her eyes fluttered shut as she breathed in his familiar smell; that nutty shampoo he nicked from his mother, mixed with a breath of half-decent aftershave.

‘Besides,’ Ben added, after a long minute. ‘You aren’t going. What’s the point if I’m leaving my best girl behind?’

The memory struck Rey right in the chest. She rubbed at it with damp fingers.

Oliver excited her. He was this big burly guy with great ambitions and a lot to say. But what she’d come to realise as she lay in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling as he lay snoring beside her, was that _that’s all he did._ Yeah, he’d excited her—for a bit. Maybe because of who he was, or maybe just because he was something new. Did she see herself marrying him? Probably not. Did she even really _like_ him?

The thought drowned out all others.

Rey gripped at the countertop.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ she was so _confused._ Was she just convincing herself that she was into Oliver because it was convenient? Because she couldn’t have what she really wanted? And as unsure as she was about Oliver, she was equally as sure of about Ben.

She’d loved him since she was sixteen. She’d loved him so much that the first few guys she’d picked up in bars, she’d turned down because she was obsessed with this deluded vision she’d had of her first being Ben. Of the first guy to be inside of her being someone she _truly_ loved. Christ, God knows how many times Rey had pictured it. The two of them, nestled close in bed, hearts pounding against the skin of one another’s chest. Ben’s long hair grazing against her skin, his nails biting into her hips. The heat and the desperation and the thought of _fucking finally_ —

It was everything she’d ever wanted. Tall, gangly Ben, with his dark eyes and even darker hair, arms banded with the most gorgeous tanned muscle. Sometimes, as he slept on the sofa, Rey would ever so gently trace the slope of his long nose, over and over until he unconsciously slapped her away. And when he fell still yet again, she’d grin against his arm and begin the process all over again. Sometimes a finger would stray across and touch the dip of his scar. It was honestly a bit sinister how much she loved his face. She adored how utterly _Ben_ he looked.

The only time she could really appreciate it was when he was sleeping. Any other time when she wanted to tickle at his ears (which Leia swore she simply couldn’t face getting pinned back when he was younger) or touch his baby-soft hair, he’d duck away from her, or step back out of her reach so that her fingers barely grazed him before he was gone.

The closest she’d ever gotten to loving him was their kiss in the moonlight.

_That’s_ what had been throwing her off. She knew it now—maybe she had since that night. Because she’d been content—maybe not happy, but content—with Oliver until that gentle press of her lips to Ben’s. It _never_ felt that way with Oliver. If she was being entirely honest, he was a little forceful for her liking. He dominated every kiss; she learned to just go along with it. But Ben…the kiss was achingly gentle, him letting her dictate the speed, the pressure. It was everything she never knew she’d always wanted.

So why couldn’t she just… _have_ that?

‘Rey? Rey?!’

She closed her eyes before calling: ‘Yeah? I’m in the kitchen—’

The door slammed open; Finn stared at her with frantic eyes. Panic flared in Rey.

‘Finn? Finn, what’s—’

‘It’s Ben,’ he panted. ‘His mum just called me. He’s collapsed, he’s—’

It was all she needed to hear. Grabbing her keys, she yanked Finn through the doorway and out of the flat.

*

‘Did you…call…anyone?’

The nurse glanced up from the clipboard, face already soft. ‘Well, not yet, actually, honey. You don’t have an emergency contact.’

The relief was instantaneous. Ben’s head rolled back against the pillow. His entire body fucking ached, but at least he didn’t have to tell anyone. This was just another little thing he could fold up and hide away forever.

The nurse pressed a hand to his bare arm. ‘Would you like me to call someone now, Ben? Maybe a friend? A girlfriend?’

He was shaking his head before she’d even finished. Eyes closed, he mumbled, ‘No, no, no, it’s fine. I’ll discharge myself once the doctor says I can.’

The woman was quiet for a long moment. Then: ‘Sometimes you don’t realise how bad you feel until you leave, honey. Sometimes it’s not until you’re trying to get home, and you’re sitting right as rain on the bus before you break down.’

Through tired eyes, Ben finally looked to her. She patted his arm. ‘Don’t think you’re a burden, kiddo. Maybe give calling someone a thought.’

She left, and the room still lightly smelled of her perfume. It was the same one Rey used; sweet, but not sickly, with a distant hint of honeysuckle. Ben’s fingers tightened in the bedsheets.

The clipboard hung by his feet. The single sheet of paper that exposed his appalling weight, his drop in muscle mass, hung from his very bed. He rubbed at his face, suddenly weary. Realistically, how much longer could this keep going? How much longer could he survive on stolen food? The stress of paying his share of the bills was already eating away at him; every single month, it came to the twenty-fourth and Ben’s hair was practically falling out. Because it wasn’t just _him_ ; he was partly responsible for Rey, for Finn having a roof over their heads. How could he let them down?

There was the slam of a door—then came the frantic calls of, ‘ _Which room? Which room did she say_?!’

_This can’t be happening—_

Leia burst into the room. Her handbag nearly swung right over her arm. Face tear-stained, she rushed to yank him into a hug. He winced at her grip, but the familiar softness of his mother soothed him instantly. He was suddenly four instead of twenty years older.

‘Oh, God, Ben I was so _scared_ —’ She pulled away, cupping his cheeks. ‘What _happened?_ ’

‘Nothing. Really. I just felt a bit light-headed…’ Wait. His face flushed. ‘How did you find out?’

Leia bit her lip. ‘Well, that…the doctors had me down as your emergency contact.’

No.

Absolutely _fucking_ not.

Ben’s face whitened. His mother…his own _mother_ knew he’d went to a _sperm donation clinic._ For the briefest of moments, his vision trembled, and if he hadn’t already been lying down, he would’ve panicked that he’d faint again.

Chin trembling, Leia tucked a strand of hair behind Ben’s ear. She whispered, ‘What’s going on, sweetie?’

Despite his best efforts, Ben’s throat betrayed him with a quiet sob. He stopped as soon as he’d started but it was enough. It already told his mother what she needed to know. Tears flooded her eyes as she breathed, ‘Oh, _Ben_ ,’ and pulled his head under her chin. The moment was so painfully tender that it almost fucking hurt—Ben could count the amount of times he’d hugged both of his parents on two hands. Leia murmured, voice soothing, into his hair, a thumb gently stroking at his neck.

‘ _Please,’_ she whispered. ‘ _Please tell me what’s wrong.’_

‘I don’t know what to do, Mum,’ he sobbed. ‘I don’t know what to _do._ I’m so fucking _over_ it. I-I can’t afford anything, I can’t afford my rent, I can’t buy any food—the donor thing, it was the only thing left that paid any money—fuck—’ He choked, head ducking. ‘I’m so sorry, Mum, I’m—’

Leia grabbed him closer, tears dripping off her jaw. ‘Ben, why didn’t you _say_ anything? You know we would’ve given you the money—when we bang on about the bank of mum and dad, that doesn’t mean we won’t give you money for food—’

The door thudded shut. Ben quickly pulled away, wiping at his face. He didn’t need to see who it was—he knew.

Ben looked to the window before his father could see his red face. Leia’s arms stayed out, but the space between them was empty. Peripheral vision was a pain in the ass—he could still see grief slapped across her face.

‘I’m sorry they called you,’ Ben said finally, jaw clenched. ‘They must’ve still had your number from when I was a kid. I didn’t mean to—’ He resisted the urge to roll his shoulders. ‘…to trouble you.’

His parents shared a look. Leia pressed a hand to her mouth; Han sighed, rubbing at his forehead. Ben tried not to react. He knew that sound. It was the sound Han made every time Ben did something that irritated him. Something that, surprise surprise, disappointed his father. Guilt tugged at him—it wasn’t Han’s fault. If he had himself as a kid, he’d be disappointed too.

The doctor entered, blissfully aware of the tension in the room. It was just a young guy, with neat hair and a white smile. Gently, he offered a hand to each of Ben’s parents.

‘I’m Doctor Arnold,’ he introduced. ‘I saw to your son when he first arrived.’

‘So, what’s wrong?’ Han asked. ‘Is it some kind of epilepsy or something?’

The doctor squinted. ‘Uh, no, not quite. The collapse was simply due to lack of sufficient nutrition.’

Han’s face didn’t change. ‘So what you’re saying is he forgot to eat breakfast.’ 

_That’s it, Dad._

But to his surprise, it was Leia who lashed out. She swatted her husband with her handbag, tearful. ‘You! You just— _shut up!_ ’

Han jumped back, a hand out in surrender. ‘Jesus, Leia—’

Doctor Arnold warily looked between the two of them. ‘It’s a bit more serious than that, I’m afraid.’ He came to Ben’s bedside. ‘Now, Mr Solo, I need you to answer these questions as truthfully as possibly. Do you know why you’ve ended up here?’

‘I haven’t been eating right.’

‘Okay, and why’s that?’

Ben shifted uncomfortably. ‘I haven’t really…uh, been able to afford it.’ With a flash of panic, he realised exactly where the doctor might be heading. ‘Really—that’s why. I don’t have an eating disorder or anything.’

Doctor Arnold smiled, but didn’t meet Ben’s eyes. ‘Just checking every avenue.’

By the time the questionnaire was over, Han and Leia weren’t speaking and Ben’s head throbbed. The doctor left, seemingly content—or simply uncaring—that Ben didn’t have some kind of issue with eating and called, ‘I’ll let reception know you’re to be discharged,’ as he left.

The resulting silence was beyond uncomfortable.

With what wavering strength he had left, Ben kicked off the sheets and reached for his folded clothes. He deliberately avoided his parents’ gaze as he began to yank his jeans back on under the unflattering gown.

He was almost glad when the door burst open for the umpteenth time. The relief quickly faded when he saw who it was.

Finn, Poe and Rey stood, breathless, in the doorway. Ben could hardly breathe himself.

With a sigh, Han reached for Leia’s hand. ‘C’mon,’ he murmured. ‘Let’s get a coffee.’

‘We’ll, uh…give you a minute,’ Finn said, pulling Poe back out the room.

And suddenly the room was too large and too small all at once. It was just them—Rey and Ben, staring one another down. Then, Ben remembered his half-naked state, and dropped his eyes to continue pulling on clothes.

Rey rushed forward and threw her arms around his middle.

Ben jolted back, his weight thrown. But after a moment, he allowed himself this much; he carefully wound his arms around her shoulders, squeezing her close.

‘Your mum and dad,’ she sniffed into his chest. ‘They called Finn. What the fuck happened, Ben?’

He debated telling her everything. Losing his job, losing faith in pretty much everything, barely able to pull himself out of bed to brush his fucking teeth. Telling her he loved her more than his whole life.

‘I’m fine,’ he settled on. ‘Just felt a bit light-headed. It’s all a bit of an over-reaction, really.’


	6. I get the feeling that you'll never need me again

Leia pleaded with him for weeks to move home.

  
It was Han that eventually calmed her down. ‘He’s grown, Leia,’ he told her during their weekly poorly-connected Skype call. ‘Let him do what he wants.’

  
It hadn’t stopped his mother depositing money into his bank account each day, ranging anywhere from fifty bucks to several hundred dollars. Each time he clocked the increasing account balance, a distant desire to start an argument with her flared—but then he’d remember. She’s just trying to help, he told himself.

  
And she really was. Each Sunday she’d drop off some new dish, big enough for his flatmates to share. Ben would shift aside at the door, asking her in, but she’d hold up a delicate hand and say, ‘I’d love to, but your dad’s waiting.’ That wouldn’t stop her rushing forward before he shut the door and wrapping her arms around his waist in a desperate embrace. He’d hunch over, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and press a quick kiss to the top of her greying head.

  
But he was ridiculously glad Leia hadn’t forced him home. He could barely handle the barrage of daily messages, asking if he’d ate or if he had enough money to pay rent or if his friends were checking in on him. He had a sinking suspicion she was texting at least one of his roommates—if he had to guess, Rey. Though Finn seemed to frequent his room far more often now, something Ben didn’t totally hate.

  
What he did hate was how strained everything felt. For weeks, every conversation had a purpose, the words forced, poorly masking the questions they really wanted to ask. His skin would crawl, and he’d find the quickest exit before neatly bowing out of the conversation.

  
Admittedly, the questions had started to dwindle. He guessed that had something to do with the fact that in the two and a half months that had passed from his admission, he was almost back to his original weight. Finn and Poe started inviting him to their gym sessions, even holding back on the usual PDA to spur him on. Ben still hid beneath hoodies a size too big, and shorts slightly too baggy, but even he couldn’t ignore the return of his pre-depressive body. As he stepped into the shower, he’d force himself to just look. Stand naked before the steadily steaming mirror, tracing the undeniable bulge of muscle. Gone was the slack, concave stomach, the stick limbs, the hollows in his cheeks. A hint of undernourishment still wavered in the shadows beneath his eyes, but only if he looked hard enough.

  
Now his body was a statue of pale skin, wrapped tight over straining biceps and thick thighs. His abs were refusing to play fair; they were nowhere near as defined as they had been when he was nineteen, twenty, but at the very least his stomach was flat and firm. He smoothed a hand over it—gone were the violent stabs of pain each time he neared food. Now, his shelf in the fridge sat stocked. He managed to change his bedding weekly. He, Finn and Rey would take turns in doing laundry loads, and suddenly he could see his bedroom floor again.

  
His curtains stayed open more often than not, and somehow, that felt more of a victory than anything else.

  
Ben wasn’t stupid. He knew this was a Good Phase. The depression, the agony, the crippling loneliness wasn’t gone, just lessened.

  
And nothing exposed that more than the weekend of house-sitting.

  
‘Oh, please, honey,’ Leia pleaded down the phone. ‘Your dad and I are going to see Luke and we really don’t want to ask Lando to do it.’

  
‘Why not? He’s your neighbour, that’s so much easier—’

  
‘Orgies!’ His father’s voice cried down the line.

  
Ben barely supressed a gag. Still, news of his godfather’s promiscuity didn’t exactly surprise him.

  
As his mother continued to natter, Ben’s phone pinged. He pulled it away from his ear; a notification banner displayed a text from Han. It’s the least you can do, kid. Sourness blossomed in Ben’s mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, nostrils flaring. After a minute, he brought the phone back to his ear.

  
‘Okay.’

  
‘Oh, you’re a star! Invite those friends of yours—make a weekend of it!’

  
He’d never actually planned on doing that. Finn wouldn’t want to come, especially not if Poe didn’t, and Rey—well. Rey.

  
It wasn’t that they avoided each other. They still spoke, still spent evenings next to each other on the couch as a movie played. Rey would still spoon a heap of whatever she’d cooked that night into Ben’s mouth, still laugh when it inevitably smeared across his chin. Ben still plucked the coffee from the top shelf Finn it on and left it on the counter so she could steal some. She still sent him pictures of dogs she met every time she left the apartment, and he’d always send an appropriate emoji in return.

  
It just…wasn’t the same.

  
They never spoke about that night. The night where she’d looked at him as if, for the first time in her life, she could see completely clearly. Where she’d pressed her lips to his, and everything in his life, for that tiny moment, finally felt balanced.

  
But if not speaking about it meant he could keep Rey in his life, then he’d accept it. Even if she did come as half of a pair.

  
Finn barged into his room the night before Ben planned to leave. His suitcase lay open on his bed, half-filled.

  
Finn blinked. ‘You escaping?’

  
‘What? No.’ Ben huffed a laugh. ‘I’m going to Mum’s for the weekend. House-sitting job.’

  
Finn blinked again. ‘Excuse me? And you kept this a secret why?’

  
Ben folded another pair of jeans into the case and shrugged. ‘It’s just a couple of days. I’ll be back on Monday.’

  
Finn leaned back through the doorway and yelled, ‘Rey! Pack your bags!’

  
‘What—?’

  
‘If this is Poe trying to get us to go to one of those masked orgies in Prague again, he can fuck off.’ Rey appeared beside Finn, dots of Sudocream covering her face. A hairband haphazardly pushed back her hair, the strands separating in a desperate cry to be washed. Ben looked away. Still frustratingly pretty.

  
‘Benny boy’s heading off to big, beefy Organa mansion for the weekend and we’re going too. I’m guessing our invites just got lost in the post.’

  
Rey slapped Finn’s arm. ‘You can’t just invite yourself places.’

  
Ben couldn’t stop the words. ‘I mean, you guys are welcome to. My mum said you could come.’ He cringed. Nice one. My mummy said you guys can come play with me if you want—

  
Rey’s jaw dropped. ‘Really? A weekend at a lake house? With you guys? Is this actually happening?’

  
Ben itched at the back of his neck, aware of how much skin was currently on show in his loose tank-top. ‘Uh, yeah, why not.’

  
Finn pushed past Rey out the door, yelling, ‘I’m gonna tell Poe! We’re gonna get drunk in a mansion!’

  
Ben chuckled, low and throaty. He tossed another ball of socks into his case before noticing Rey still standing in his doorway. ‘You okay?’

  
She blinked, nodding slowly. ‘Yeah, yeah, of course.’

  
Ben nodded once. Then, it hit him. Ignoring the squeeze in his throat, he added, ‘Obviously, Oliver’s invited.’

  
Rey’s brow twitched, almost like the name didn’t resonate. Then, she murmured, ‘Oliver…right…’

  
Cautious, Ben neared her, extending an arm. He patted her bare shoulder, the one that had slipped out of her too-big Friends pyjama top. ‘Rey? You okay?’

  
She shook her head. The dazed expression left her eyes and she beamed up at him, patting his hand. ‘Course! Just excited. I’ll let him know—what time are we leaving?’

  
‘I was thinking noon. It’s only a couple hours, but if you guys are coming, we could make a night of it. Get take-out, go down to the beach.’ He shrugged. ‘If you want.’

  
Only then did he realise his hand was still on her shoulder. And her hand was still on his. He pulled it away, too quick to be natural, and turned before he could see her face.

  
‘Right. I’ll go…pack.’

  
The next time he looked up, she was gone.

  
He groaned internally. A whole weekend? Trapped at his mother’s with Rey in tiny bikinis and sun-kissed skin? She hardly ever wore overly-revealing clothing; a part of him wondered if she was self-conscious. He’d overheard her mumbling to Poe once about Oliver’s suggestion of a boob job. The rage had almost overwhelmed him. Did the fucker not realise how lucky he was to even be with Rey? To be around her?

  
And fuck, he didn’t know what he was talking about. Her tits were perfect. Smaller, but with enough there that he could feel the press of them whenever she curled up with him on the couch. Distantly, he wondered if the rumour was true. Did that gentle pink shade of her lips match the colour of her—

  
NO. No. Stop. You’re being creepy.

  
He shuddered. Pervert.

*

It was dark when he woke.

  
He could barely see anything in his room. Squinting, he peered at the clock by his bed. 3:15? Fuck that.

  
But before he could roll back over, the tension in his bladder became too strong. Yawning, he gave in, and made his way down the dark hallway to the bathroom.

  
He leaned one clenched fist against the wall above the toilet and wrapped the other round his soft cock. The night cloaked everything in shadow, but he’d done this enough to know exactly where to aim.

  
Ben’s head lolled back, breath escaping him in a quiet rush of pleasure. It bordered on a moan.

  
He frowned, eyes still closed.

  
Another moan, followed by a whine barely caught in the back of a throat. So soft, so gentle and feminine, that it threatened to harden his dick before he was even done pissing.

  
His eyes popped open. Fuck.

  
The bathroom backed onto Rey’s bedroom.

  
His gut curdled. If he was hearing the two of them going at it, he was going to—

  
Wait.

  
Oliver wasn’t staying the night.

  
Guilt shrouded Ben. He stood frozen, a hand still clutching at his cock. All he could do was listen.

  
There was the subtle, almost imperceptible buzz of what he presumed to be a vibrator. Even the thought sent shivers down his back. The sound was muffled, almost like it was under the covers. Ben could almost see her, on her back, half covered in her duvet. Her knees drawn up to her chest, eyes squeezed shut as she gently worked the toy over her clit.

  
He almost drooled.

  
Her moans got louder, and still, he couldn’t move. She shuddered a breath, and there was the knock of her bedframe against the wall. Ben tensed.

  
Suddenly, the vibrator was shifted up to a faster pace, and, too loud, Rey cried out.

  
‘Fuck—Ben!’

  
That was it. Without even flushing, Ben darted back to his room and shut the door ever so slightly too loudly. He threw himself into bed, pulling the duvet up around his ears. Eyes wide, he stared into the darkness of his room.

  
Oh, fuck.


End file.
